The way the world moves
by Aurora-swan
Summary: When John's life hangs by a thread Sherlock starts to realize how much he means to him. Things starts to get clear in his mind when it comes to their complicated relationship and he decides that he need to make some changes, John just have to tag along. Rated M for upcoming slash. Very fluffy.
1. Chapter 1

**First fanfic in this area, hope you like this little tender story. **

* * *

"Don't you see, John!" Sherlock shouted and cupped his face. "The man is in that building! Holding a child hostage!" John frowned and grabbed his wrists.

"I know, I was the one who told you." Sherlock was beside himself, walking around in a circle before the doctor, stroking his chin as he pondered with the other hand in the air, pointing to the clear night sky.

"We need to go in there." he said and Watson groaned loudly and felt his pocket for for his gun.

"I know, we can't leave a kind alone with than maniac." Sherlock reached out his hand and took a hold of John collar.

"Do you have your gun?" He nodded and took a deep breath to get rid of the fear, bent his knees to press his lungs together so they would be easier to fill up when he raised again. "You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Oh, I'm not letting you go alone." Watson said and grabbed his arm and started running towards the abandoned ware house.

Their coats was caught by the air, water splashed underneath their shoes and John drew his gun as they got closer to the door. They bunkered against the concrete wall to calm their breathing when John gave his friend a lingering look.

"When do you think the police will get here?" he asked Sherlock who leaned against the pillar.

"Not in time before that poor girl is dead I'm afraid." he answered him and brought out his own gun before he turned to his friend. "Are you ready?" Once again, Watson calmed his nerves with some deep breaths, then he nodded. The door was opened with the force of Sherlocks kick and her tossed himself into the velvet darkness with his gun pointing to the nothingness. He stood there quiet for a couple of seconds, listening, only hearing his own heart and breaths, water dripping into to the puddles on the floor. The room was to large to see the end in this darkness, but far away, he could see the light shining around a closed door. "John?"

The doctor was the first one to take a step further and the detective followed him shortly. "John." he said again as they sneaked closed to the mysterious door. "I can't guarantee what's behind that door. It might be the end of us both."

"Well." John began and shook his head from side to side. "Then we've had a good run together, haven't we?"  
"I must agree, my dear John." Sherlock smirked and gave him a sentimental look. "I'm glad you've coped with me all these years." The doctor grinned and felt his heart skip a beat as his friend laid a hand on the door nob. Sherlock gave him a questioning glance and he nodded.

The door opened and the beam of light was so bright that it blinded them both. A gun was fired and the both men bunkered against the wall again with the door between them.

"Wait! Wait!" John could hear himself shout and Sherlock rolled his eyes before he looked at him.

"Wait for what?" he asked silently and John groaned loudly and grasped his beating heart.

"So you found me?" a voice said loudly and they could hear the sobbing of the young child.  
"Please, mr Rain, let the girl go!" Sherlock shouted and glanced at the opening.

"Oh, the girl is not in your concern any more!" mr Rain smirked and they heard him stepping around in the room

"John." Sherlock whispered and held up three fingers and pointed to the left. John understood and felt his military nerves slow down the time around him. He was a better shooter that Sherlock and they both knew it, so it was now his responsibility to take them out; his heart slowed down, his breathing calmed and he blinked to get his eyes ready for heavy focus. Then he attacked, he turned and reached his arm out and fired three times, but there was the sound of five. He let out an awful cry and pulled back against the wall, painfully grabbing his arm.

"John!?" Sherlock shouted and the doctor looked for his gun in the middle of the door way.

"One on the right." he said quickly and Sherlock loaded his gun, walked inside with confident steppes and shot the last guard, then pointed his gun at mr Rain that was holding a knife against the child's fragile neck.

"It's over mr Rain, put the knife down and let the girl go." he ordered and and gave the poor girl a quick glance to make sure she wasn't hurt.

"I will say when it's over!" mr Rain screamed in anger, making the girl whimper in fear. "Give me what I asked for!"

"The documents you asked for doesn't exist!" Sherlock shouted and the young man giggled like the maniac he was.

"What do you mean?" he asked and pulled the child's hair, forcing her closer to the side how his face, his breath sending soft winds to her cheek.

"They burned." he answered calmly. "Your sister never put them in the safety deposit. They burned with her."

"What!?" Mr Rain grimaced his anger and disappointment. "You're lying!"

"No, Mr Rain." he groaned. "There are no documents, your codes, your money are gone. You lost before you even started."

"YOU'RE LYING!" he screamed and pressed the blade closer to the child's skin, she let out a cry and stared at Sherlock with pleading eyes. "GIVE THEM TO ME!"

"There are no documents!" Sherlock shouted again and loaded his gun to menace the criminal. "Now, let the girl go!" Mr Rain let out an awful cry, every limb on his body trembled in anger and he pulled back. The child sprinted across the room and took hold of the detectives coat, pressing herself close to him to feel the safety of his salvation. He placed a peaceful hand on top of her head and lowered his gun, the man was beside himself, pulling his hair, crying and screaming.

"I'm sorry, mr Rain." he said with a low voice and the man let out a giggle with those words.

"You're not sorry." he said and turned to face the wall behind him. "Don't you pity me!" Without a warning, mr Rain turned with a gun in his hand, but Sherlock was quicker on the hand. Three shots were fired, one by Sherlock and one by mr Rain who now was falling to the floor, dead.

With the heart in his throat he turned to the door and saw his dear friend standing with the weapon in his hand that had caused the death of mr Rain.

"Very good, John." he said and lifted the child into his arms when his friend did something unexpected. The gun fell to the floor as he stepped back to the wall and slid down to the wet floor, hand pressed to his left side. "John!?" Sherlock hurried over the floor and put the crying child down beside them, he gave her a piercing stare.  
"You need to be brave now little girl." he said holding her hand as comfort. "I need to take care of my friend and you need to do anything I tell you."

"Please, Sherlock." John moaned painfully, blood flowing down his fingers. "She's only a child." But the girl sucked up her tears and nodded bravely.

"Okay." she said and Sherlock gave her a big smile before he turned to his friend again. "You're a brave girl, what's your name?" He unbuttoned John's dark grey shirt and removed his hand from the wound so he could take a look at it.

"Shirley." she answered and John let out a painful laugh.

"Beautiful name. I'm Sherlock, and this is my friend John. Shirley, in my left pocket i my coat there's a phone. Take it and call the police department. Tell them Holmes are waiting for them and that we are in a need of an ambulance." Sherlock placed his hand on the wound and placed as much pressure on it as he could; John cried out in pain and grasped his arm, moaning and groaning.

"Is it bad?" he asked hoarsely after he'd caught his breath again.

"You're the doctor, you tell me." Sherlock said and the blood pumped between his fingers. The doctor looked down and saw the amount of blood on his clothes and floor, he quickly closed his eyes again and his head fell back to the wall.

"Yeah, it's bad." he groaned and coughed painfully.

"Keep talking to me, John! Stay awake!" Sherlock shouted and applied more pressure to the wound, he turned to the girl who held the phone to her ear, shaking of the chock and pale of the sight of blood. "They're not answering?" She shook her head and he cursed in anger. "Okay, hang up. Press the down button and you'll get to my contacts, look for the name Lestrade, mention my name and tell him the exact same thing that I told you before." She nodded and looked down on the phone again. He turned to his friend who was about to faint before him. "JOHN!" He opened his eyes again and looked up to the roof full of pipes and cables. "Keep talking!" John took drew a short breath and blinked.

"I'm still surprised that you didn't know the earth circulates around the sun." he said with a weak smile and Sherlock pressed his lips together and made a disappointed face, this was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

"It's an unimportant fact. It does me no good."

"Yes, but everyone knows it." he smirked and his head tipped to the side.

"Holmes told me to tell you that we are waiting for you and we need an ambulance." the girl repeated and the detective gave her a smile.

"Good girl, hang up." She followed his command like her life depended on it and put the phone back in his pocket.

"He said they're two minutes away." she said and looked at John with big brown eyes. "Is he going to be okay."

"Of course." he said quickly, but was unsure about his friend's condition. Shirley turned back at Sherlock and wiped her flowing tears.

"You really didn't know that the earth circles around the sun?" The smile disappeared from Sherlocks face with that question but John let out another tired laugh.

"You see?" he said. "Everyone knows it." The detective blinked and groaned, he was annoyed by the two unintelligent humans teasing him and he started to pay more attention to the wound, shutting them out.

"Just keep talking, John. Stay awake."

The doctor started to get pale and he blinked tiredly, he was sitting in a pool of his own blood; Sherlock had never felt so useless. There was nothing he could do to help more than holding him. "John, don't you dare to leave me, you're the only one I can stand to live with and you're the one paying for that place. If you die I would have to move out." John smiled and snorted.

"You're telling me that the apartment is more important than my life?"

"There is no apartment if you're dead." Sherlock grinned but could feel the tears burn the back of his eyes. He'd never felt this way before, for the first time in his life he was actually worried to lose someone. He actually cared for another person; jesus, he couldn't let John see him emotional.

Then, as a salvation from god, they heard the sirens from the closing in police force, but John's fragile thread of life was about to brake, his breathing hitch and it was only harder to keep his eyes open.

"John?" he pleaded and removed one of his hands from the wound to cradle his head. "John!? Don't you dare!" With misty eyes he stared at his friend, blinking tiredly and fighting the urge to take a nap. "I'm telling you John, if you let this wound be your destruction I wont bury you in a nice place." John just smiled and made a final effort to grasp the sleeve on Sherlocks coat.

"Then... don't let me die."

* * *

Beep, beep, beep... The sound repeated itself constantly and he groaned irritably as it woke him up. He lifted his arm out to silence his alarm clock when a awful pain tore through his sore body and someone place a warm hand upon his chest.

"John?" That voice was well known to him and he tried to open his heavy eyelids. "John, can you hear me?" He tilted his pulsating head to the side and felt tubes cling to his face.

"Sherlock." he mouthed and felt a warm touch in his cheek.

"Yes, John. I'm here." His cloaked vision became brighter and clearer for each second that passed, Sherlock was standing beside him, face unshaved and a bed head worth to print into his mind.

"How long have I've been out?" he asked, voice weak and words slurred by the heavy medication he'd been given.

"Long enough." Sherlock smiled and then he did something he'd never done before. John felt the pain of being pulled up from the bed and into his arms, Sherlock was hugging him. This was probably the most odd situation they'd ever shared. John felt the warm sensation in his heart and wounded his healthy arm around his friend. "Four long days, my friend." There was a long moment of silence, the only sound that was heard was from the machines and the rain smattering against the window. Suddenly, Sherlock let out a long breath and John felt the pressure of the hug loosen around him. "Do you remember when I told you that I'm incapable of feeling fear?" John nodded and felt the smell of coffee in his clothes, envied him for the caffeine his body craved. "Well, you proved me wrong when your heart stopped beating for those three minutes." The detective cradled his head and sighed in pain into his shoulder. "Don't you dare scare me again." he cried out in anger and John found himself speechless in his arms.

"Okay." he promised and felt something wet his his neck. "Sherlock, are you crying?" The detective pulled back and John landed on the bed again. He watched his friend as he turned his back at him, pulling his hair and groaning.

"No." he said and sniffled, walking around in the room in the same clothes he'd worn the day he got shot; he'd literary stayed by his side during his recovery. Were there something there that John had missed about him, John would lie if he said he hadn't been having feelings for his friend.

And he was surprised, Sherlock hated hospitals, avoided them as much as he could as long as it didn't involve the morgue, cutting bodies open for proof.

"Sherlock?" he asked with a breath and tried to sit up in the bed, but he quickly fell back again with a hand pressed to his swollen waist, groaning in pain. He felt a warm hand on his chest again and he looked up at Sherlock who wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve.

"Don't move." he said and pinched his nose as he sniffled. "The doctor said you shouldn't try to move, your stitches might tear."

"I'll be alright." he mumbled and and looked around the room. He saw the cough with blankets and pillows, Sherlock had been living here with him.

"Sherlock, why have you been doing this?"

"Doing what?" he asked and fell down on the chair beside the bed, holding his hand on John's wrist. John swallowed with a dry throat and let out a whimper when he felt the pain.

"You're not the person who cares." he said. "Don't misunderstand, but I know you well enough to know that you don't do things like this." The scruffy looking detective opened his mouth to answer him but realised he didn't know what to say; he quickly closed it again and turned it into a weak smile.

"I can't explain it." he grinned and tears started to fall again, he wiped them before they reached his chin and cleared his throat. "I'm... I'm not used to... these emotions coming over me." He looked at John with a exhausted face. John frowned, pulled back his arm so that he could take Sherlock's warm hand.

"Are you trying to tell me that you care for once?" he asked and felt his eyes burn of the upcoming tears. There really was something there that had gone unnoticed and to his relief, Sherlock nodded, he actually nodded. "You've never cared before."

"Not for anyone else, no." Sherlock snorted, quite chocked by his human behaviour. John shrugged and did what he could to keep the tears away.

"So..." he said and cleared his throat as pain free as he could and felt a tear fall down to his right ear.

"John, I... " Sherlock began and turned to face the window. Dark clouds were floating over London, giving it that dull appearance you could expect from this city. It was impossible for him not to cry, what had driven him to this madness, why couldn't he control himself? He turned back to his friend and closed both his hands around John's. "I've think I've come to the conclusion that I actually can't live without you." The doctor pressed his lips together and blinked away the tears, he had the mind and heart of a military, and yet, he felt so weak.

"What, because of my money?" he asked and held back a sob.

"No." Sherlock smirked and leaned closer to the bed. "I just can't live without... you." John didn't even realise he was smiling, his cheeks were burning wildly, his heart monitor embarrassed him by monitoring his increasing heartbeats.

"Oh dammit." he groaned and pulled the sticker of his chest, the machine silenced. "I..." he began and coughed slightly. "Sherlock, I... I don't think I could live without you either."

Sherlock couldn't take their lack of intimacy anymore, he flew up from the chair and cupped Johns pale face, pressed his lips against John's forehead. He lingered like that for a few seconds and could feel John trembling in the bed.

"Are you alright?" he worriedly asked and his friend nodded.

"Yes." he mouthed and got a hold of Sherlock's collar, pulled him down until his lips hovered over his own. "Are you?" Sherlock observed him like he was one of his object in the lab, fascinated and ready for experiments, but he didn't answer his question. He closed in on John and soon enough their lips met in a passionate kiss. John could feel a jolt of happiness flow through his sore body like a wave and he softened his dry lips, he had been wanting this for way to long.

Sherlock was the one to end the kiss and nearly collapsed over his friend, holding his head close to his chest, breathing heavily in his ear.

"Don't you ever die on me!" he said, voice stuck between sobbing and laughing. "Don't you dare scaring me again." The doctor just smiled, happy about the spark in his chest that Sherlock had started to fan into a fire.

"I'll do my best." he promised and stroking his hand back an forth over Sherlock's shoulder blade; he really loved that man.

"I care about you, John." he sighed and stroke his thumb back and forth over his temple.

"I care about you too, Sherlock." he confessed and couldn't help himself, he needed to smell those dark curls on his head. He pulled him closer to his body, felt the pressure on his wound as Sherlocks bodyweight landed on him, but he didn't care. The dark hair smelled of sweat and cigarets. "I thought you would quit smoking?"

"Not a good week for that." he grinned tiredly and stroke his hair lovingly. John snorted and closed his eyes again, to tired for these emotions.

"It never is." he said and fell back into deep sleep in Sherlock's arms. The detective didn't notice that he was unconscious until John's arm fell back on the bed.

"John?" he asked and lifted his head to look at him, he was told that the medication would make him tired but the fact that John just fallen asleep during a conversation made him smirk. He closed in on him again, cheeks touched and the tip of his nose brushed against John's ear.

"I might not know that the world circles around the sun, but I'm positive that **my** world circles around **you**."

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**Please, leave a review. This story will become slash in next or lated chapters, just so you know ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sherlock is full of surprises, lucky John.**

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He woke up, hours later with an awful hunger tearing through his stomach. With a silent grunt he managed to open his eyes again, only too be struck by the strong beam of sunlight shining through the window.  
"Wasn't it raining a minute ago?" he groaned and placed a hand over his hurting eyes. There was no answer and he took a look around the room, Sherlock's coat war folded over the back on the sofa but there were no sight of him. He let out a big sigh and stroke his hand through his hair, he was in a desperate need of a shower and a cup of tee. Then he saw the phone on the bedside table and decided it was time for an update in the daily media, he'd been gone for too long and needed to know what was going on around him. He didn't even have time to reach for the gadget before he heard that well known voice again.

"John?" There in the doorway was Sherlock, a cup of coffee in his hand and a pack if cigarettes in the other, he quickly hid them in his pocket when he saw John looking at the package. "I was just... er..." He stepped inside and placed the cup on the side table and started too clean up the wrappers from multiple candy bars and junk food; which was odd, Sherlock was known for avoiding those types of foods. The clothes were different on him, he was shaved, hair back in their usual curls. John quickly understood that another day had passed and that he had spent the night at home, he felt somewhat relieved that his friend had found the time to do something else that taking care of him 24/7. "How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days." he answered and noticed the bouquet of red roses on the table at the end of the bed. "Someone else been here?" The detective's cheeks quickly flushed red by the question and he shook his head. "You bought me flowers?" John could't help himself as he smiled ridiculously lovingly.

"Isn't that what people do?" Sherlock asked in shame and John let out a little laugh.

"Yes. Roses are a little unconventional thou, but they're nice." he said and his friend grinned. John watched in awe when he blushed and reach out to touch his upper arm. "Thank you."

"I didn't know when you would wake up, but I brought you a cup of coffee. No sugar."

"Oh, that's lovely, thank you." John sighed happily and craved after the cup. "Can you, maybe..." He signed for the remote on the wall and Sherlock pressed the button to alter the beds position. The mattress made a jump and John groaned in pain as his body bent in the bed.

"Are you in pain?" Sherlock asked, incapable of reading Johns expressions of feelings.

"No." he lied quickly and held his hand over the pulsating wound. But Sherlock could read his lies and ran over to the cupboard by the wall. "What are you doing?"

"Of course you're in pain." he said and snapped his finger on the syringe. "You can't lie to me." John frowned and shook his head.

"No, Sherlock. You're not a doctor." But Sherlock had already walked around the bed and put the needle into the tube of Johns drip.

"No, but I know what I'm doing." The morphine entered his system and all the pains just faded away and left him in a state between bliss and nausea.

"Jesus." he moaned and his head fell back on the pillow. "You shouldn't do things like that, if they see you, they will kick you out for sure." Sherlock smirked cockily and tossed the syringe across the room, it landed in the metal bin on the cupboard.

"Coffee?" he asked and held out the cardboard cup.

"Yes please." John answered quickly and grabbed it eagerly. One sip later he could feel his addiction being calmed of the caffeine. "Gods, that's good." The detective fell back on the chair again and lifted up his feet on the bedside, watching John as he sipped his drink.

"You must be starving." he said and John nodded.

"You have no idea." he smirked and warmed his hands on the cup, enjoying the sunlight that shined so rarely. "I would give anything for some chips."

"Well, you wouldn't want to spoil your appetite." his friend sighed and folded his hand together over his chest, smiling rather suspiciously.

"For what?" he asked and stroke his chin, he could feel the long stubble. "Do you have more surprises?" Sherlock was still smiling his cocky smile which was often seen when he'd just solved case and he slipped down in the chair, leaning his head to the back of it.

"You know I don't like surprises." he said and John grinned.

"That's because you can't be surprised." he reminded him and drank if his hot coffee. "I think you would like it if you were able to." Sherlock bit his lip not to laugh out loud.

"Um, no. I think I would hate it. But I am cooking you dinner tonight." The coffee almost choked him and he cleared his throat as he looked at the detective.

"You!?" he exclaimed and turned his face into a almost worried expression. "I've never seen you pick up as much as a whisk!"

"Oh, I can cook." he grinned, crossing his legs and sank further down in the chair. "Just you wait." There was a long moment of silence, John tried to avoid eye contact with his friend because he new that a single glance at him right now would make the heart monitor go crazy. A week ago, depending on how many days had passed since the last time he was conscious, that little spark that Sherlock had planted in his heart all those years ago had really turned into a flame. In one way he wanted to suffocate it, just in case this was just one of Sherlocks experiments. Oh god, he hoped this wasn't an experiment. But in another way, every gesture his friend had made these last couple of days seemed true due to the fact that Sherlock seemed to have no idea what he was doing, like he really made an effort to make John understand that his feelings was answered.

"Why the sudden urge to these things for me?" John had to ask. Everything was just to overwhelming when it came to Sherlock's kindness, he wasn't known for being kind. The detective, who still worn the cocky smile, let out a deep breath through his nose and inspected his nails.

"Just you wait." he said calmly.

* * *

221B Baker street, home, shower. That was the first thing that had come to mind as John stepped out of the cab. Still on heavy medication and still in pain, he was still happy to be out of the hospital so quickly. Standing in the steaming water he looked down at his torso, the gunshot was taped with waterproof bandaids, his skin bruised around the wound like he'd been punched with a fire extinguisher, jesus, did that hurt. He took a look at his arm, the bulled had only touched the skin on his forearm but it had teared into it deep enough to give him ten stitches. Just some knew war wounds, he thought to himself as he stepped out on the carpet and tossed the towel over his head. He took a deep breath in it to smell the fabric softener before he scrubbed his face and dried his short hair with it. He felt faint.

He fell down on side of the bathtub and wounded himself in the towel wile he took some deep breaths. The steam in the room and sucked up most of the air and his lack of protein only made the dizziness worse.

"Sherlock?" he called out, whimpering in panic, he didn't want his friend to find him naked on the bathroom floor. "Sherlock!?" There was a knock on the door.

"Everything alright?" Sherlock asked behind it and John's vision started to go blurry.

"Er... yeah, could you just open the door and let out some of the steam?" There was a click as Sherlock opened the lock from the outside and the door came open. To John's surprise Sherlock didn't leave, he stood in the opening looking worriedly at him.

"John?" he asked and walked in to open the window on the end of the room.

"I'll be fine." he whimpered and grasped the sides of the tub so he wouldn't fall off it. "I'm just... " Before he had time to finish the sentence, his bathrobe landed around his shoulders and he felt Sherlocks hands on his arms.

"Do you need help?" he asked and John came to the conclusion that without help, he would probably not leave the bathroom today. There was no need for an answer before the detective helped him to bring his arms into the sleeves. John observed him in the blur and as the cold spring air blew in through the window, he slowly started to feel better. Sherlock tied the bathrobe before he removed the towel from his legs and tossed his over his shoulder.

"Thank you." he sighed and the detective smiled.

"Do you need to rest before dinner?" he asked while he crouched before him. John shook his head and rubbed his eye as he groaned.

"No, I'm so too hungry." Sherlock gave him a teeth glistening smile and grasped his healthy arm to help him on his feet. He did't even get up before Sherlock had to catch him from falling.

"John!?" he shouted and fell to his knees with him in his arms.

His head was heavy, in fact, his whole body was too heavy for him, arms fell to his sides and he was to tired to care about the pressure on his wound as Sherlock held him. "John, come on. Grab a hold of me and I'll get you to the couch." With a huge effort, he managed to put his arms around Sherlocks neck and Sherlock braised him as he stood up, pulling him with him. "Alright?"

"Yeah." he breathed.

"Can you walk?" He gave him a slight nod and Sherlock grasped his wrist over his shoulder, helped him out to the living room and placed him in the armchair. "I'll get you some water. Don't move."

He sank further down in the armchair and leaned his head to the side while he rubbed his eye, then he noticed that something was different in the apartment. With a quick observation of every corner he realised that Sherlock had cleaned it, the beakers and glass containers were all put back in the wardrobe, papers had been sorted off the desks, the dust was gone from the furnitures and the floor, it even looked like he had tried to scrub the yellow smily face of the wall. He turned his head to face his friend as he stepped over the floor with a glass of water in his hand.

"Have you gone mental?" he asked with a smirk as he received the water.

"Mrs Hudson helped." he said, as always, he already knew what John was talking about. "Wound might get infected in a dirty place."

"Yes, I know, I'm a doctor." he grinned and Sherlock left for the kitchen again. That's when he noticed the shine in the old carpet and he nearly choked on the water. "You even shampooed the carpet!?" A loud laugh was heard from the kitchen, mixed with the sound of boiling water at something frying; whatever he was making, it smelled awfully good. "Wait until you see your room." He turned in the armchair again, too quickly this time and his wound burned bad enough to make him groan.

"You've been in my room?" he asked while grimacing in pain and pressing his hand to his broken ribs.

"Yes! Nasty business if you ask me. I washed the top mattress, vacuumed under the bed and your bureau, scrubbed the floor and I even cleaned out your wardrobe." John frowned, he couldn't believe his ears.

"Why?" he outburst and jumped when Sherlock set fire to whatever was in the frying pan. "Are... are you flambeing!?" Now he could believe his eyes.

"Yes, John! Go and get dressed! Dinner is served in less then five minutes."

* * *

The sight of the dinner table made him stop in the doorway, live candles, nicely set with napkins, wine glasses and Mrs Hudson's beautiful wedding china. John frowned and let out a restrained laugh as he looked at his friend who already sat by the table, elbows on both sides of his plate, leaning his chin to his folded hands.

"You did this?" he asked.

"Oh come on, don't be stupid. You were in the other room while I did this." Sherlock exclaimed rather harshly, but John was used to the tone. "Now sit down and eat." He couldn't help but feeling a bit underdressed for the occasion, wearing his casual jeans and a simple sweater when Sherlock, on the other hand was proper dressed in his black suit and dark shirt, which in Sherlock case was just as casual as what John's clothes. Without further speculation on their appearances, he sat down face to face with his friend and Sherlock opened the steaming pot and swirled the lid so the aromas would spread in the room. "Homemade spinach pasta with a cream sauce and fillet of beef flambéed in scottish whisky, aged since the 1930th." John was speechless, literary speechless. The man who never ate, never as much had opened a carton of milk had made him this... this glorious meal from scratch. He had actually even made the pasta from a carton of eggs and a bag of flour.

"Sherlock..." he breathed and stroke his chin in admiration. "You actually made this?" Sherlock unfolded his napkin and placed it in his lap as he looked at him him wide eyes.

"What? Is something wrong?" he asked and corked up the wine with a loud pop. It was white, just as John preferred and Sherlock filled their glasses half way.

"No." he answered with a smile, still not believing his eyes. "No, absolutely not." Sherlock reached his hand over the table.

"Plate." he ordered and John removed the napkin from his plate and placed it in his hand. Food was served on it together with a salad decorated with parmesan and walnuts, John was fascinated by the utter perfection of the meal and he stroke his fingers through his hair as Sherlock placed the plate before him again. "Be careful with the wine, you shouldn't drink to much with all that morphine in your system."

"Oh, I think I'll be fine." he said and picked up the fork. "Where did you learn to cook?" Sherlock smiled crocked as he served himself.

"Television." he answered.

"Tele..." John smirked. "You're telling me that you learnt to flambé by watching the telly?" Sherlock shrugged and pressed his lips together into a thin smile.

"Yes." he said simply and put the lid back on the pot. "Now, eat John. You haven't had a nice meal for days now according to my count." He didn't need to be told twice.

It wasn't just the first meal he'd had in days, it was the **best** meal he'd had in ages. The incredible combinations of aromas and flavours married just as well as earl grey and lemon.

"Christ, Sherlock. You outdone yourself." he breathed and spun the fork in the pasta again

"Of course I have!" he exclaimed cockily. "I'm a show off, am I not?"

"Yes, but..." John laughed and drank of the wine. "I thought you didn't even know how to turn on the oven." Sherlock laughed with his dark voice and observed his friend.

"That seems rather possible in my case, doesn't it?" Johns snorted and started to giggle wildly, feeling the pain on his chest.

"Oh please.." he giggled and tried to calm himself down. "Don't make me laugh!" But Sherlock couldn't help himself, his head fell back and he laughed loudly in the kitchen. "No, please!" John suffered but the merry Sherlock always left him in a good mood.

"Aren't you surprised that I know how turn on the vacuum too?" he asked and John was about to die in his chair. "I didn't even know we had a vacuum."

"Oh jesus christ." John laughed and held the hand over his wound. "Sherlock, please!" He tried to breath between the attacks of giggling. "Oh god, you lazy bastard..." he bursted into laughter again. "Don't tell me this is the first time you've cleaned in your life." Sherlock didn't answer, just smiled while biting his bottom lip. "Oh god, you can't be serious?"

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**Hope you enjoyed, please leave a review. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews :D Please, keep 'em coming!**

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The dinner ended and John was too satisfied to move from the table. The candles burnt lower and lower as they finished the bottle, laughing and talking, getting more and more tipsy for each glass. The atmosphere was more perfect then ever, they had a really nice time without Sherlock dominating the conversation or depreciate him. They laughed, talked about their latest cases and John's blog that Sherlock still found ridiculous, but that was just his opinion, but as alway he liked to interfere with what John was going to post, or what title he would give them.

"I need to ask you something." John suddenly said and pressed a hand to his cheek that was blushing by the alcohol. "I was at the hospital for a week, and you practically lived there, didn't you get bored?"

"Of course I got bored!" Sherlock said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But, I had my violin, I composed a bit, did some research, made some notes for your blog." John swallowed the wine and frowned, couldn't believe that Sherlock had helped him.

"You've been writing for my blog?" he asked and crossed his arms on the table, gazing at Sherlock who he swirled his glass.

"I made you some notes of things that might be important, things about mr Rains autopsy, your operation and recovery. That reminds me, we got a thank-you-note from little Shirley. She painted you a picture."

"Me?" he asked and Sherlock stood up. On the counter there was a brown letter, envelope covered in stickers, hearts and clouds, clearly sent by a child.

"Yes, she painted us both a picture." John took the letter and pulled out the pages. The first page was a thank-you-note from her very thankful parents, he decided to save it for later and pulled up the next. She had drawn Sherlock in his black coat, looking as mysterious as ever; on the top, shaky little letters said "thank you" and John smiled.

"They're quite artistic, aren't they?"

"For a seven-year-old, yes." Sherlock said and fell down on his chair again, drinking his wine while John turned page, expecting a picture of him but instead there was a big turtle coloured cat and he bursted into laughter again.

"Thank you John Watson for saving my life. This is my cat Liz." he read.

"I'm sure Liz is very happy to have her owner back." Sherlock said ironically and leaned his elbows on the table. Maybe Sherlock didn't understand the gratitude and work this little girl had spent on these simple gifts, but he sure did.

"Well, these are going on the fridge." he grinned and the detective snorted out a laugh.

"Why?"

"Because they're nice!" he answered happily and stood up to walk over to the fridge. "How often do we get drawings from those we help?"

"Never, and that's often enough!" Sherlock said and finished his glass before refilling.

Old bills and notes were all over the refrigerator and he pulled off the most unimportant to make room for the pictures, they gave a wonderful splash of colour to the door. "Why don't you open it?" He turned to Sherlock.

"What?" His friend signed to the fridge and scratched his chin.

"Why don't you open it?" The memories of all the things he had seen in the fridge hunted him and he crocked his head.

"What, is there another severed head?" he asked and Sherlock smirked. "A bag of toes perhaps?" Sherlock smiled from ear to ear.

"Just open it." he said again and John rolled his eyes, expecting the worst since the fridge always had a smell of blood and death, but this time the smell was gone. The light came on and revealed the two cups of butter scotch pudding, he's favourite.

"Oh, Sherlock." he grinned and brought them to the table. "Maybe I should get shot more often."

"Oh, don't be silly doctor Watson." the detective grinned and filled John's glass. "This is a one time event, don't get used to it."

That was not really an intension he had, but he would mind to be more taken care of in the future. After all, their relationship had changed gravely since their sudden intimate moment at the hospital, at lest for him. An awful rock landed in the bottom of his stomach and he felt the smile he had been carrying for the whole evening disappear from his lips. His gaze sunk to his hands and the pudding in front of him didn't seem to tempt him anymore. What if all this was one of Sherlock experiments, what if he lured John into something just to explore the human emotions on a level of love? Could he really be that cruel?

"Sherlock?" he mumbled and started to tear his nails as the rock got heavier for each second. "Can I ask you something?" Sherlock observed his friend in wonder and nodded.

"Fire away." he said. He decided to go straight at it.

"Is this an experiment of yours?" Sherlocks eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline by the question.

"You mean this simple gestures?" he asked and leaned closer to the table.

"Yes." John said and nodded. "You, waiting for my awakening at the hospital, the flowers, this and... the.. er..." Sherlock leaned even closer over the table.

"Are you referring to our kiss?" he asked with a smile, his voice was lower now, rumbling in his chest and sending shivers down John's spine.

"I think I'm referring to everything." he said, and realised that he was trembling now. That's when it happened, Sherlock grabbed a hold of his collar and leaned as close as he could to him; pressed his lips against his and let his long fingers touch his newly shaved chin. John didn't know where to keep his hands, they wanted to explore but he restrained himself, at lest for now. Lips were soft against each other, John could taste the butter scotch on him and now he had no idea what he craved more, Sherlock or the pudding. Sherlock pulled back and slowly opened his green blue eyes to look at him.

"Does it feel like an experiment?" he asked calmly, still touching his chin.

"Not to me, no." John said honestly, he was shaking now and on the brink of crying, what if Sherlock pulled back, laughed hysterically as he had succeeded with the experiment; but he didn't laugh, he didn't cheer like he did after reaching results.

"Not to me either." he said and brushed his bottom lip against John's skin. John was hypnotised by his words and pulled into a second kiss, heart beating frantically as Sherlock's hands touched his cheeks. But how much John even wanted this, he still had questions that needed to be answered before he got to addicted to these feelings, so he pulled back. Biting his own lip and lowered his gaze to the table, curling his hands into fists as he let out a big nervous sigh. The long fingers lingered on his cheek and Sherlock tried to get back in his eyesight.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked blushing.

"No." John said quickly and shook his head, wounded his hands around those slim wrists of his. He fell back on the chair and pulled back his arm. They were gambling their friendship, and that was what John valued most in his life. To go from best friend and colleague into an intimate relationship was a though decision. Sherlock who had been frozen in his position straightened his blazer and sat down on his chair with a serious face. He sniffled and reached for his wine glass again.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." John said and pinched his nose bridge like he was having a headache. "It's not your fault."

"You're sceptic." Sherlock said. "I can understand why."

"No, no..."

"Of course you are." Sherlock snorted, he was obviously hurt by John's sudden reject. "You see me as a colleague and a friend, you're worried about the rumours that already been gossiped about in media, you're unsure about your sexual orientation and have been for a long time now, haven't you? It would be hard to keep the relationship on a level without it concerning or interfering in our job, since, of course we work where we sleep and we sleep where we work."  
"Sherlock!" The detective silenced and realised he had been shouting and John stared at him with a locked jaw and teared eyes. He had made a fool out of himself so he closed his eyes to stop his brain from thinking to deep. "I'm sorry." John cleared his throat and leaned far away from him in his chair, stroking his hands back and forth over his thighs.

"Sherlock..." he began and saw his friend spin his finger over the glass. "None of those things bothers me..." Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. "I need to ask you... what do you want to get out of this?" Sherlock was about to answer him but John was not done. "What happens in that body of yours when you see me? I'm asking you because everything I ever hear you talking about is solutions, proof of every human intellect and I just don't want to be another subject of yours to examine."

"John.."

"No, I wanna know." John said, he could't stand to get hurt by him, he didn't want this to end with them never seeing each other again. "Because sometimes it seems like everything you do is in your favour in the end, so I'm asking you, where to you want to take this?" There was an awful moment of silence. Sherlock kept fingering his glass, John squeezing his trembling hands while observing his flatmate.

"Well.. John, I..." he started and took a deep breath. "As you know, I am a very complicated man... my mind is.. well you know how my mind works?" John snorted out a laugh and gave him an unsure nod. "I'm amazed that you work so well together with it, so I am considering to take you in as a very close part of my life because.. you seem to be the only one who can keep me on a human level, and I value that to much to take it for granted. You keep me human, and that is very precious to me. You are very precious to me." John closed his eyes hard and lowered his head.

"So what would you call that? he asked and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "What do you want to do with our friendship?" Sherlock fell back in his chair and scratched the back of his head, somehow he looked more human now than he'd ever done before, unsure and weak in John's presence, like he could find words for his feelings.

"John." he began and the doctor lifted his head. "I have never been in a relationship."

"Yes, I know." John breathed and stroke his chin as he observed everything in the room but Sherlock.

"But when I imagine one, when I think about the future I can't see it with anyone else but... you." The room around then suddenly became very uninteresting for John, he locked his gaze at Sherlock and felt his heart skip a beat. That thin mouth on Sherlock's face had curled into a smile and his eyes glistened. "I really do and I think that is something worth speculating in."

"Speculating?" John asked and tried to ignore that awful twitching in the corners of his mouth.

"Well, wouldn't you agree?"

"Agree to what?" As always Sherlock spoke as if everything he said was so obvious and simple, John always had to dig to get anything out of him and it had never annoyed him as much as it did now. It seemed like someone tried to strangle the poor detective, he opened his mouth several times before closing it again, sucked in short breaths as he tried to find the right words. This was the first time John had seen him speechless. "Sherlock, just tell me what you want!"

"YOU!" Sherlock shouted and almost flew across the table as he leaned over it. "Don't you get it John! It's you, it's always been you! No other human being in the world have ever made me feel this vulnerable before, so extremely..." He silenced himself to breath and John sighed in happiness. "I need you, around, all the time." Sherlock spelled out the words for him, this was as clear and simple as he could put it.

"But I am around all the time." John laughed and moved closer to the table. "We live together."

"But there are so much we're not doing together." Sherlock said in a low voice and locked his eyes on John who leaned closer, his arms was now touching the table.

"Like what?" he asked and Sherlock started to snicker.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked and stared right through John's soul with those green blue eyes.

"Oh yes I do." John said with a broad smile. "So when you say everything you mean what exactly?" Sherlock didn't need a moment to think this time, he knew very well want he needed to say.

"Things that couples do." Now they were finally going somewhere.

"I agree." John said with a smirk and Sherlock was chocked by the quick response.

"What?"

"I... agree." Time stopped, and they inspected each other thoroughly.

"Good." Sherlock said and quickly raised from the chair with a wide smile and straightened his jacked. "I've already taken the liberty to move your clothes into my room." John froze in his chair and watched how Sherlock walked away with confident steppes.

"That's... alright, I guess." he said with a smirk and shook his head in disbelieves, but he would never disagree to that.

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**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, will post another one as quick as I can. **

**Please leave a review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Fluffy fluff chapter.**

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With a cup of camomile tea in his hand he plopped down in the couch beside the detective, slowly joining him in the rerunning tv-show.

"We've seen this before." he said and placed his arm on the cushion. Sherlock twitched, like he had awoken from a dream.

"Have we?" he asked and lowered his hands from his lips.

"Yes, last year. You were screaming at the screen for ten minutes when you saw a red car i the upper corner." Sherlock watched the program closely before he snorted.

"I've must have forgotten it." John bursted into laughter and turned to him, Sherlock could tell that he was happier than ever.

"Well, I sure haven't. It was very funny to watch." he giggled and saw his flatmates smile. In silence, John reached out his arm and touch the curls on Sherlock's head.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked and glanced over to John who smiled, he understood what he wanted. "Oh please?" he sighed.

"If you're going to be my boyfriend, you need to cuddle." Sherlock looked sceptical.

"Do I need to like it?" he asked and John bit down hard.

"Somewhat, yes." he answered and pulled back his arm in disappointment, maybe this was wrong after all, but Sherlock fell into his side and snuggled himself close to his body. The warm feeling John had been longing for finally turned up and he placed his arm around Sherlock's thin shoulders. The detective wounded his arms around his body and sighed loudly.

"Like this?" he asked but then he felt John leaning his head against his and even if he didn't see him, he knew he was happy. They stayed locked in each others arms, watching the show without observing while the darkness crept closer around them. Night was coming and John couldn't stop himself from imagining what would happen when they went to bed. Sherlock had just moved all his clothes into his room, they weren't just flatmates anymore, they lived together.

"Could you please ask me before doing big changes in the future?" he begged him and took his hand that rested on his hip.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked and and fumbled with John's short fingers, inspecting his nails and every wrinkle like he was searching for something.

"Don't just take things for granted, you need to ask me before you do big changes in our relationship."

"I understand." Sherlock said simply and John flinched.

"Good." he sighed, drank of his tea and felt Sherlock snuggle a little closer.

"Tell me if it hurts." he begged him and John sank further down on the cushion. John didn't care if he did, right now his closeness healed his pain more than the morphine. They dozed off in half conscious, half sleeping, just watching the telly in silence. This moments was perfect, the beautiful smell that was as private as Sherlock's fingerprint entered his heart for every breath he took in those dark curls were his nose was deeply buried, he had been longing for this for a long time.

"What is that in your hair? It's not your shampoo 'cause I've been using it, and that don't smell like that." Sherlock smirked and stroke his thumb back and forth over Johns waist.

"It's an oil. It keeps it smooth. Do you like it?" He took a deep breath in his hair and sighed happily.

"Yes, it smells really good." Sherlock turned his head to him and smelled the skin on his neck.

"You smell disinfected, medical supplies, after shave..."

"Yes Sherlock." he interrupted and messed with his hair, if he didn't stop him he could continue forever with his observations. "Very romantic." Sherlock frowned, he didn't understand but he knew that John was being sarcastic.

"Is it?" he asked. "Is it romantic to tell somebody else what they smell like? I can't seem to understand this... affection?" John took his hand in his and stoke his thumb back and forth over his knuckles.

"Sometimes, yes. It's nice to compliment someone for smelling good." He could hear Sherlock smirked by those words and the larger hand tangled around his smaller.

"Well John, despite the smell of disinfectant, you smell pretty good too." That was what he wanted to hear, the kind words, not the obvious, and he showed his gratefulness by kissing the top of Sherlock's head.

The man in his arms was truly beautiful in every way, John was had never felt luckier or more thankful for what he was given today, a well earned shower, a lovely dinner and a caring and wonderful man he had been longing for way to long.

"John." Sherlock sighed and moved a little closed again, he was nearly in his lap by now. "I just want you to know that I feel very happy right now." John smiled wide and snuggled his cheek into the dark curls.

"Me too, Sherlock." he said and placed some of the curls behind his ear, but they quickly fell back as Sherlock turned to face him. Eyes shining bright in the light from telly, shifting blue and green and they were concentrated on him, shifting between his eyes and lips. A white hand touched his blushing cheek and he closed in slowly. As their lips finally met John grabbed a hold of his clothes and pulled him into his arms. The odd angle of his neck forced Sherlock to turn around until he was sitting on his own leg beside John, still giving him light kisses on the lips as John cupped his face with one hand and holding his back with the other.

"Sherlock." he whispered and kissed his soft cheek. "I think..." He leaned back to the big pillow resting against the arm support and pulled the taller man with him. Sherlock braised himself to the couch before he slowly placed himself on top of the doctor, listen and looking for any sign of pain as he did so, but John just wounded his arms around him and held him hard.

"John." he whispered and his lips hovered over his. "You need to understand that this is hard for me." The doctor cupped his face and nodded with a calm smile.

"I know." he said calmly and loved the way those dark curls fell before his eyes. "We can stop whenever you want to."

There were many questions on the detectives mind but he decided to stay quiet. Those dilated pupils, his beating heart, it was easy to tell that John was in love, but why? How could he love him? He was inhuman, arrogant, "incapable" of emotions, yet John had taken him into his life, and Sherlock had taken him into his. It was like they were made for each other.

"John." he whispered and placed his head on the doctors shoulder. "Just hold me for a while." This was going to fast for him, he didn't know anything about intimacy between lovers which in his case was hard to admit, he had always been an expert or at lest somewhat well read on everything. Would this shame him? For Sherlock, yes, he was a a newcomer to the world of sex, he didn't want to be tossed into it tonight, was that a selfish thought?

"Okay." John murmured and placed his arms around him, not complaining of just having him embrace. Just smelling him, touching him, just the feeling of his beating heart against his was the best feeling in the world.

"You're really warm." Sherlock groaned and placed his cold fingers on his cheek. "You're coming down with a fever."

"Yes, I know." John sighed and blinked several times to keep himself awake. "I'm actually kind of tired." The weight of his head disappeared from his chest and Sherlock faced him.

"You wanna go to bed?" he asked and John could tell he was nervous.

"Yeah, but just sleep. I'm really tired." he groaned and pinched his nose bridge, this time it was a headache.

"Do you need morphine?" He shook his head and rubbed his eye.

"No, I just need sleep. Stay up if you want to." It was hard to get up from the cough and go to bed alone, so he thought, but Sherlock was closely behind him, shutting down every gadget and electrical equipment in the room.

"Bed?"

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"JOHN? WAKE UP JOHN!" Everything hurt, every loin and limb from tip to toe was pulsating in pain. Cold hands were grabbing him, and his chest felt tight, it was hard to breath. "COME ON JOHN!"

"Get me out!" he heard himself shout without a single clue what he meant. "Get me out!" Someone straddled him to the bed, making him unable to move.

"John! Wake up! Look at me!" He whimpered and forced his eyes open, light was all around and he put all the concentration on to get back into breathing. Everything started to come back to him, the new room, the lights from the street and Sherlock sitting over him, cupping his face. "Just breath." Even if he didn't remember the dream the emotions was still there, the terror like he'd just been under gunpoint and he felt the tears falling down to his ears. A loud sob left his throat and he pressed his head down in the soft pillow, shaking in panic and hyperventilated. "John, look at me."

"Oh jesus." he groaned and grabbed his hair, it had been terrible.

"What was that?" Sherlock asked and looked more worried than ever. "A nightmare?" He was still trembling and sobbing, he stared up to the roof and Sherlock dried his tears.

"I'm sorry." he groaned. "I'm sorry." He let out a loud grunt and grasped Sherlock's wrist. "I'm fine. Just..." The voice stuck in his throat and the detective fell down beside him in the bed and wounded his arms around him. There was nothing he wanted more right now than Sherlock holding him. He couldn't help the awful sobbing, so many memories were hunting him during the night but this was the worst attack for more than a year. He let out a long painful breath and folded his hands with his.

"Don't worry, it's over now." Sherlock whispered and hooked his leg around him under the cover they were sharing. The breath evened out in his chest and he let out a last loud groan before he could relax in Sherlock's arms. "Do you need something?"  
"No!" he said quickly and shook his head. "No, just don't go anywhere." Sherlock crawled closed and let the tip of his nose touch John's ear. "Just hold me for a while." He turned in his arms and buried his face into the crock of Sherlock's neck. "Oh jesus." he groaned again and nailed himself hard to Sherlock pyjamas.

"Was it that bad?" he asked worriedly and stroke his fingers through his hair that was damp of the cold sweat. The sanity was slowly coming back to him and he blinked several times before he shook his head.

"I can't remember." he answered hoarsely and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "Jesus christ... I'm sorry." He was ashamed of himself, first night together and he had a fright, a fit of pure fear.

"Don't be." Sherlock whispered and stroke his long thumb back and forth over John's shoulder blade. "It's over now. Do you need some morphine?" The pain had gone away as quickly as he had opened his eyes but some morphine would probably help him calm down.

"Yeah." he groaned and felt how Sherlock pulled back to get out of bed. While listening closely to the footsteps of Sherlock leaving the room, he rolled over his back again, feeling the same pressure over his wound that made it hard to breathe. Maybe he left the hospital to soon?

Yet again he wiped his falling tears and tried to concentrate on every little noise the apartment made during the night; every crack in the walls and floor, the pipes drone as Sherlock tapped up some water. This listening was a procedure he had to go through every time after a fit to get the sounds of gunshots out of his head, the small little noises at night was his way back to reality again. The footsteps came back, closer and closer and soon he felt a wave of silk over his arm as Sherlock sat down on the bedside.

"John?" he said calmly and put a light hand on his scarred shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've just been shot." he said with a grin and Sherlock snickered by his ironic answer. With a loud grunt he sat up in the bed and felt a headache land in his head, making him toss his hand against his forehead. "Jesus..."

"Here." Sherlock pressed the cold glass into his free hand and ruffled his hair. "Take this and it will feel better."

It didn't take long before the pill kicked in and Sherlock tucked himself in beside him, held him carefully as he stroke his back. It wasn't hard to tell that John's head was dozed by the morphine, his eyes foggy and speech slurred as he tried to talk. Sherlock held back the giggling rumbling in his chest as John started babbling about some child's book he had read as a kid.

".. and they fed him stumps of old candles so he could breath fire, it was probably easier with all that candle wax in his gut. I don't know." Sherlock bit his bottom lip and let out a relaxing sigh to calm the urge to laugh.  
"So there was a boy, eating candles so he could breath fire."

"No!" John said and sounded annoyed that Sherlock hadn't listened. "The boy found a small lizard in the stable."

"So the lizard ate the candles?" Sherlock asked and played with a couple of stands from John's hair.

"Yes." John murmured and rubbed his eye as he yawned. Sherlock couldn't hold back anymore, he giggled and kissed John's burning forehead.

"Sound like a wonderful story." he whispered and pulled the cover over their shoulders. "Get back to sleep. You're talking rubbish." John snorted and bursted into a painful giggle.

"I can't remember what we talked about." he laughed and stroke his hand over Sherlocks soft cheek.

"I think you should take the half dose next time." Sherlock smirked and kissed the tip of his nose. "Now shut up and sleep."

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**Please, leave a review! They make me happy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**M-rated! **

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A week past faster then ever and John's wound was healing extraordinary well. Fever was gone, he could breath without pain and his and Sherlock's relationship was on the same level as the start of this week. They slept in the same bed, and now and then Sherlock would kiss him passing by or sneak up on him while he sat by his blog and hug him from behind. Even if their love life hadn't evolved, John didn't complain, this intimacy was enough for now. After all Sherlock was Sherlock, and John could wait to go further until Sherlock wanted them to. They cuddled occasionally, in front of the telly and slowly John realised that his parter was extremely clingy; mostly in bed. In the middle of the night John would wake up with Sherlock's arms around his neck and legs around his waist, sweat would pour down his neck and face of the heath when they laid so close under the cover but he didn't have the heart to complain or move aside, he enjoyed the closeness to much.

The guest counter had spiked on the blog after his accident, comments and questions bombarded him about his wellbeing and the notes Sherlock had made him was very helpful when he wrote about the week at the hospital, after all he hadn't been conscious more than a couple of hours during the days spent there. He didn't make the post too long, just enough to answer the readers questions, then he closed his laptop and stretched his back in the chair. That's when two long arms tangled around his waist and he felt the curls tickle his cheek.

"You're done?" Sherlock asked and John lowered his arms from the air and placed his hinds upon Sherlock's.

"Yes." he answered as his neck cracked. "What do you say about dinner?" Sherlock hummed in his ear as he thought about the question.

"At home?" he asked after a few seconds and John shook his head.

"No, I mean out. We need to get away from the apartment for a while. I could kill for a parma-chicken at Angelo's tonight." The taller man stood quiet behind him, pondered hard enough for John to hear it. "What?" he asked and turned his head to look at him. Sherlock pressed his lips hard together and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Are we going as a couple or as friends?" he asked suddenly, making John frown by the question.

"Well, I was thinking as a couple." he said and with those words Sherlock pressed a kiss to his neck.

"It's a date then." he said eagerly and pulled back, he made his way to the bedroom, their bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Change!" he said and started to unbutton his shirt. John grinned and swallowed the rest of his tea.

"Should I change too?"

"Yes!" Sherlock shouted back like it was obvious and John looked down on his ensemble.

"Is there something wrong with what I'm wearing?" He heard Sherlock chuckle.

"You're not wearing a jumper for a date!"

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They had a lovely evening together, Angelo placed them at the window where everything had started, the study in pink that made their relationship blossom, only two years later they were at the same spot, but this time, John** was** Sherlock's date. Enjoying their dinner, talking about the memories they had from that they ran after a taxi for the wrong reasons. Sherlock swallowed a couple of glasses of whiskey, getting more and more tipsy until he giggled uncontrollably in his chair, pulling John with him in his cheerfulness. John ordered a third beer and another whiskey for Sherlock, then he had to listen to Sherlock's deductions about an odd couple at the other end of the restaurant.

"He's lying to her." he said and swirled his whiskey. "Look at them, he's literary feeding it to her."

"That's what people do." John said and his friend turned his gaze at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked and smiled that crocked smile that could make John tremble.

"People lie to get what they want." John said and played with the burning flame that flicked on the table. Sherlock sighed loudly and pushed his finger out of the fire and tangled their hands together between the two shakers.

"Is that how it works?" he asked and placed the glass on the table to secretly take Johns pulse with his fingertips.

"For some people, yes." he answered and observed Sherlock while he smiled lovingly. "But not for us, right? I think we know each other well enough to know when one's telling a lie."

"Maybe." he snickered and swallowed the rest of his whiskey, feeling John's eyes burn through him.

"What do you mean maybe?" he said and his eyes thinned. "What, have you been lying to me?" Sherlock smiled cockily before him and leaned closer over the table. "Sherlock?"

"I told you I don't like to cuddle." he said. "Well that's a lie." John bursted into laughter when he thought of the warm nights with Sherlock wrapped around him.

"Really!?" he exclaimed sarcastically and Sherlock snickered darkly. That voice intrigued John to lean over the table and their lips met in a passionate kiss. Suddenly, John felt how his jeans got tighter and he pulled back when he felt himself blush violently, god was he aroused by him.

"John?" Sherlock smiled and stroke his fingers through his hair.

"Shall we go home?" the doctor asked and finished the last of his beer.

"Walk or cab?" Sherlock asked and picked up his phone, ready to call.

"No, let's take a walk." John said and found the wallet in his jacket.

"Oh, do't be silly." they heard Angelo shout across the restaurant, like he could smell cash a mile away. "Your money's no good here!" They both knew that very well but John pulled out fifteen quid from his wallet and placed it on the table, Angelo was to kind.

They left the restaurant and the wind caught Sherlock's long cape and tossed it up Johns face, making them both laugh hysterically as John caught it between his teeth by accident.

"How 'bout that!" John said muffled by the thick fabric and Sherlock closed in and pulled in loose, exchanged it for a deep kiss. He cupped his face with warm hands and John's own travelled inside the long coat and grabbed his waist to pull him closer.

"John." Sherlock whispered into the kiss and drew a circle with his finger around his ear. "I think I'm in love with you." John's legs went soft by his words, fell into his embrace and wound his arms hard around him, he had never felt so alive and happy. Feelings were mutual.

"I think I love you too." he said into the crock of his neck. "Well in fact, I do. I have for a long time." Sherlock grinned happily and kissed his cheek.

"I know." he snickered and John started laughing again, of course he knew, that bloody man knew everything. "Shall we go home then?" He took one last breath of Sherlock's scent before he pulled back to look at him. Their hands entwined and they started walking down the street. It was a cold evening with a light wind pulling their clothes and John glanced as Sherlock's hair was pushed out of his forehead, the curls framed his face like a little crown.

"So how do you feel about kids?" Sherlock asked quite sudden and John choked on his breath.

"What?" he shouted and forgot how to move his legs. The detective turned to face him with a frown.

"Potential future partners should know these things about each other." It was like their first meeting all over again only this time a couple of grades higher in their relationship.

"Potential future partners?" John shouted but couldn't help his awful smiling. Sherlock nodded and looked a little worried.

"Yes? Did I say something wrong?" John stood speechless before him, sucking the air around him like a stranded fish. "Does the question bother you?"

"No." he finally got out and he flicked his sight between passing cars and Sherlock, feeling himself blush as he thought about a future with him. "I.. I just haven't thought about it."

"Well do." Sherlock said like it was easy and pulled John with him again but the doctor was glued to the ground.

"Wait! What about you?" He turned to him again and pressed his lips hard together.

"What?" he asked and John snorted out a laugh.

"What are you're thoughts about kids?" he asked and Sherlock smirked.

"Well, I think it's something worth speculating on. Don't you?" John grinned and tried to imagine Sherlock in a position as a father, it seemed impossible. "Shall we carry on?" The doctor decided not to think about this too much, after all Sherlock had a tendency to think to far, so he followed him down the street again, putting the conversation to rest. The detective suddenly stopped and bit his bottom lip as he took a deep breath, he looked hesitant as he turned to him again.

"Did I just kill the mood?" he asked and John frowned.

"What? No! Of course not!" he shouted over the sounds of cars. "It's just... a little unconventional to ask on one of the first dates." The detective hissed and nodded.

"I guess so." he said and continued walking. "I've done a lot of unconventional things these last couple of days, haven't I?" John giggled and let go of his hand to hug his whole arm.

"It doesn't matter if you have." he said and kissed his shoulder. "And by the way, you've alway been, not just these last couple of days."

* * *

The door flew open in the same second as Sherlock placed his hand upon the handle and Mrs Hudson jumped in the hallway.  
"Oh my goodness!" she shouted and grasped her heart as she giggled. "You scared me."

"Going out?" John asked her and moved out of the way as she ran past him.

"Of course, John. She's visiting her flame in Glasgow." Mrs Hudson dropped her handbag but John caught it before it fell into the puddle.

"Oh don't you start with me young man!" she warned him and pointed a strict finger at him.

"Leave her Sherlock." John smirked and placed the bag in her hands again. "But it's late, will you be okay on your own?"

"Of course." she giggled. "I'll take a cab. You boys have a lovely evening, and I'll see you this weekend." A car pulled in by the sidewalk and Sherlock walked over to open the door for his landlady.

"Have a lovely week Mrs Hudson, and be careful with his cats, they are potential biters."

"He doesn't have cats!" she exclaimed and stepped into the car.

"Two." Sherlock said and kissed her hand. "Bye now." The door closed with a bang and he slammed the roof as it drove away. Suddenly the cloud above opened up and a shower of rain fell over them, quickly soaking their clothes.

"Jesus!" John shouted and squinted his eyes in the fall down. "Were the hell did that came from?" Sherlock took two stepped over the sidewalk and pulled John inside. Somehow, the doorstepped seemed higher tonight, and John stumbled over the wood. Lucky for him, Sherlock's coat was the perfect thing to grab a hold of before he hit the floor. With a shout he pulled the detective with him down and they landed in a pile, laughing hysterically.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sherlock asked and blew the dust on the carpet away from his lips. "Are you really that drunk?" John laid beside him, laughing silently as he held his breath, body cramping.

"I'm sorry!" he finally said and snorted. "Oh gods!" Sherlock watched as his boyfriend rubbed his eyes and rolled over on his back. "I don't know what happened." Arms fell to his sides and he saw the ugly lamp hanging in the corridor, this was the first time he had ever looked up in this room. "Mrs Hudson really has a bad taste in furniture."

"Oh forget about the lamp!" Sherlock shouted and tossed himself on top of him, John started laughing again and wound his arms around him.

"How could you possibly know about the cats? You've never even met the man." Questions like these always intrigued the detective and he smiled cockily, happy to answer him.

"I heard the man sneezing over the phone." John rolled his eyes and played with the dark curls that had already gone wet by the rain.

"You got all that by a sneeze?"

"No of course not!" he smirked. "I answered her phone the other day and I could hear them."

"Oh, you git!" John giggled but was silenced by Sherlock's lips. The laughter died out and the only importance right now were to get into the detective pants, literary. Hands explored over the taller mans body, touching and squeezing every part they could reach underneath the coat. The detective parted his lips and John let his tongue slip into the wet cavern, massaging the moving muscle, making Sherlock moan in pleasure. This time, he didn't ask for permission, if Sherlock wanted him to stop he just needed to say so. But not a word came from him as John's hand travelled down his abdomen and cupped his member through the jeans, he just broke the kiss, bucked into his hand and let out a trembling moan. Those blue green eyes was fixed on him, teared of pleasure he had never experienced before. It didn't take long before he got used to the new feeling and leaned in to kiss his lover again. He started to grind himself against his hand and John felt his member grow beneath the jeans.

"Do you want us to move upstairs?" he whispered into the kiss and Sherlock swallowed hard.

"Yes." he answered and John pushed him up.

None of them could remember how they got up the stairs, they just appeared in the bedroom, tugging each others clothes between deep kisses. The long coat sailed to the floor, soon to be joined by a silky shirt and a flannel. John pressed their bodies together, skin against skin and he could her Sherlock hiss as he kissed and nibbled his neck.

"John..." he murmured and grabbed his short hair. This wasn't the time for talking, John thought and placed Sherlock on the bed. He straddled him and nibbled his bottom lip. "John." he tried again and the doctor fixed his eyes on him. "Be kind." The man was nervous, shaking under his touch.

"Of course." John whispered and stroke his cheek. "I would never hurt you. Just relax and I think you will find it quite enjoyable." Sherlock managed to giggle and John had never seen him so adorable, so needy and excited but yet lost in the new found touches. After a quick fight with the buttons in the jeans the zipper finally came open and John sneaked his hand down to feel his twitching member. Sherlock moaned loudly and arched his back in the bed.

"God John." he groaned and captured his kiss. "Will it feel like this every time?" John smiled.

"You've never done this to yourself?" He shook his head, eyes foggy in pleasure and breathing hitched.

"I can't even remember the last time I had an erection." Well, John thought, this was going to be interesting. He pressed his soft lips against Sherlock and stroke his hair out of his eyes.

"I'll take you pants off." he informed him and sneaked his fingers inside the waistline of both his jeans and boxers, with one pull he released his throbbing member and it twitched against his stomach. The cold air caressed his hot skin and he moaned in abandonment, he watched while John undid his belt buckle and slid his jeans over his hips. His member stood proudly and Sherlock swallowed nervously, this was the first time he had seen another mans sex since he was five and bathed with his brother. Enough about my brother his head shouted and he reached out to take Johns hand, pulled him down into straddling him again. Their sexes accidentally bumped into each other and Sherlock let out a strangled moan as they did. Skin against skin again and the heath between their bodies made his groin ache painfully so he grasped John by his shoulders.

"John." he breathed and felt his warm hand touching his private parts. "It hurts."

"Where?" he asked and nibbled his exposed collarbone.

"Down there." he moaned and John wounded his fingers around his shaft and stroked it carefully.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked and saw how Sherlock's mouth fell open, he was too busy to answer him now. He brushed his thumb back and forth over the leaking head and the detective almost shouted in pleasure as he bucked into the touch. John kissed his jaw and pumped him slowly.

"Oh... god.." he breathed and forced John into another deep kiss. "Please..."

"Are you begging?" John murmured and saw Sherlock smile.

"Don't you dare patronise me at this moment." he hissed and stroke his hand over his back and loved the way John played with him. And then John did something beautiful, he kissed a trail down his neck, over his collarbone down to his left nipple and gave it a lick, making Sherlock cross eyed in lust. He pinned himself to the bedspread and moaned loudly.  
"Oh, John..." he breathed and started to move his hips as something pooled up in his abdomen. "Don't stop." He was panting now, close to completion when John forced his right leg between his knees and Sherlock spread up for him. Even if he didn't recognise the feeling he knew he was close. "Jo.. John." He didn't know where to keep his hands, he grasped whatever was close and his breathing hitched. Then he felt something hard against his thigh and he looked down, John was finding friction for himself and the doctor was just as close as he was. Teeth scraped against his hard nipple and it took him over the edge. His hips moved uncontrollably into John and his voice broke into some ridiculous noises of pure lust and bliss. And that was it, his pulsating shaft twitched in John's hand as white ribbons hit both his and the doctor's chest's. He didn't see it but he could feel the whole world fade around him and his eyes was clouded in white. In the next second he heard John moan loudly and press himself hard against his thigh as he came, his sharp teeth dug into Sherlock's collarbone, piercing the skin. There was pain, but it felt so good mixed with the wonderful feeling of orgasm. John fell on top of him, removing his hand from the softening shaft to hold onto his shoulder. They both took a moment to get back into normal breathing again and Sherlock opened his eyes to see his lover tremble.

"John." he murmured and cradled his head that was tucked closely to his neck.

"Hmpf... yes?" he breathed and pressed his soft lips to his vain.

"Please, do that to me again sometime." he pleaded and felt John's chest heaving in his heavy breathing and low giggling.

"With pleasure." he answered and hummed in satisfaction. "What did you think?" The detective's mouth curled into a smile and he gave him a dark smirk.

"I think you have your own deduction to that." he said and kissed the top of his head. "Don't you, doctor?" The shorter man made an effort to roll off him but Sherlock held him tight. "Don't."

"We need to wash up." he breathed, still deeply pleased by his climax, but Sherlock wouldn't let him leave the bed.

"Not yet." he plaided him and buried his fingers in his short hair. "Just a minute."

John didn't complain, he fell back on his chest, feeling the spunk and sweat between them. As they laid there, catching their breaths, he heard Sherlock murmur to himself and he lifted his head again.

"What?" he asked when he saw the detective staring up to the roof, it seemed like he had travelled of to his mind palace. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?" he looked down him and started to move his thumbs back and forth to caress his back.

"You still here?" John asked him with a loving smile and the detective was infected by it.

"Yes, I was just... er..." he shook his head and took a breath deep enough to lift John with his heaving chest. "Shower?" He didn't need to ask twice.

* * *

**Next chapter will be up soon. Feel free to leave a review, they make me happy! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Just pure and utter sex! Enjoy!**

* * *

They went to bed, still naked and soaked from the hot shower they'd shared a few minuter earlier. John was almost asleep, head buried deeply into the pillow and making small tired moans as he was about to fall into dreaming. The detective observed him, drawing small circles around his ear and twinning his short hair. It was the first time he had seen John naked and now he could read him like a novel, every scar, mark and curve of him had it's own tale to tell. The scar on his left shoulder was easy, and John had already told him about what happened, but there was more. Under the left side of his torso, right under the ribs was a long scratch, it was old and stretched, it was probably from a childhood accident. Then there was the second gunshot, just beneath the scratch, it had healed but he was left with a deep scar almost like a dent.

"John?" he whispered and crawled close enough for the tip of their noses to touch. "Are you awake?" The doctor took a deep breath and could tell by the smell of the hair oil that the other man was close to him.

"Not for long." he whispered and felt how Sherlock wound his arms and legs around him. Something poked him in his sides and it took him a few seconds to figure out what. Once he did it made him smile again. "Already?" Sherlock gave him a dark chuckle and blew some hot air into his ear.

"It's been forty-five minutes." he whined like a child and pressed his groin to John's hip, it was warm and slick by the lotion he had used earlier. "And you're teasing me with that naked body of yours." John felt his lips curl into a smile by his words and he sighed lovingly.

"Do you want me to put on a pyjamas?" he asked even if he didn't plan to cover himself up.

"No." Sherlock murmured and kissed his nose. "I want you on top of me again." John choked and squinted his eyes in the soft light from outside the window.

"Now?" he asked and tried to collect every ounce of energy in his body, he was up for another round. The next second Sherlock started to grind himself against him, smiling cockily and eyes slimmed by lust.

"I'll let you go further." A jolt of energy hit John's body and he was wide awake in the bed.

"How far?" he asked and started to feel nervous in the detectives presence. Sherlock took his hand and placed it on his hip and John didn't stop himself from sliding it to his arse. He grabbed it it roughly and squeezed.

"Until I say stop." Sherlock smirked and John felt his member waking up, twitching against the sheets. "I saw the lube in your room when I moved your things." He reached behind his back and found the bottle, waved it in front his nose. And he called John a tease? "Now, prepare me." The doctor's eyes widened by the order and he was eager to obey it. "Please." John turned to him and Sherlock's already leaking head bumped into his cock, making the detective chuckle as he was pulled into a deep kiss.

"You silly man." John groaned and and pushed him back in the bed, his plan was to make Sherlock feel his domination so he pinned his hips to the bed, making him unable do move. Sherlock whimpered by John's sudden attack, he wasn't expecting this. This, he liked.

"Oh John." he breathed and felt how his doctor spread his legs and sat on his knees between them. Lips soft as feathers touched his collarbone, finding a trail over his ribs, down to his bellybutton where John dipped his tongue and Sherlock shivered by the wet muscle teasing. The lips continued over his abdomen and came very close to his throbbing cock that was begging for attention, but John ignored it for now, just kept teasing the area around it, nibbling and licking. "Oh, John... " He had never been kissed so intimate before, he never knew a pair of lips and a tongue could work such miracles on his body. Then he heard a click and he looked down to see John coating his fingers in the slick liquid. The sight made him tremble, those fingers were about to go inside of him and he had no idea what to expect.

"Tell me if you want me to stop." he whispered and placed a wet kiss on his shaft. A slender digit circled his entrance and he swallowed nervously. Just as the it entered him John licked his throbbing shaft and Sherlock moaned loudly by it. His mind gave up to the needs of his body and he gripped onto John's hair. "Oh god!" Whatever John had done to him he wanted more and he was ready to beg for it. "Please, don't stop..." The finger wiggled inside him and John giggled when he saw what he did to his lover, and he hadn't even started the search for the sweet spot yet. He pushed his finger in and out of Sherlock's behind, coating him with the lube so the next finger wouldn't hurt.

"Do you want me to add one more?" Sherlock felt another slender finger touch his entrance and he whimpered as he gave him a quick nod. But before John pushed in he crawled on top of him again, nibbled the vain that was showing on his tensed neck. Right under his ear, he found a sweet spot and Sherlock held his breath so he didn't moan loudly. Then he pushed in and the detective felt a slight burning sensation to his muscle, but still, the urges to fuck himself on those fingers made him move his hips in need, he wanted it so badly. "You okay?" the doctor asked him worriedly and lifted his head to meet his green-blue eyes that were open wide. "How does it feel?" Sherlock pierced him with a single look and he uttered a whimper.  
"Bloody brilliant." he whispered and John could breathe out above him again.  
"Good." he said and kissed his already parted lips, let his tongue explore the wet cavern while he slipped his fingers in and out. Sherlock pinned himself to the doctors shoulders and closed his eyes when John suddenly crocked his fingers, sending sparks out to every limb.

"Oh dear lord!" he shouted into his mouth and bucked his hips upwards. John had found his prostate and with just one poke he was so close to the stars he could feel the heat. He whimpered violently and John pulled back to see his reaction.

"How was that?" he asked and pushed his fingers in once more, seeing how Sherlock melted underneath him. Eyes hazed, sweat pearling on his forehead and cheeks turning bright pink. John couldn't believe he was the one doing this to him.  
"Ooh, oh John.." he breathed heavily and moved down on his fingers. "What did you do?" The doctor didn't reveal what he'd just done with his knowledge in anatomy. His smooth tongue flicked over the tensed muscle on his neck and he brushed over his prostate again. The man shrudded beneath him, moaned his name like a prayer as his green-blue eyes fogged. John needed to be inside him soon.

The same pool-up as earlier started to come back in his abdomen. This time it felt bigger, but yet lingered. He moved down again, rotated his hips to get John to hit that spot again but John suddenly pulled out. It was a huge disappointment to feel so empty. To his surprise it angered him and he needed John back inside him.

"John." he murmured, lost track of how many times he'd called that name the last couple of minutes. "I need..." What did he need? He wasn't sure yet. It was all so new, so exciting, so many things to discover and John was the only teacher he wanted and needed to learn... this. And, this was something he needed to master, get good at, just like every other subject he admired.

"What do you need?" John asked him, his voice had dropped a whole octave by now and Sherlock had never had such a clouded mind, he was desperate to clear it.

"I need you." he moaned when he felt something blunt stroke against his opening, sending jolts of electricity through out his body. "I need you John."

John slicked his cock with the remaining lube on his fingers, watched how Sherlock skin prickled and chest heaving in need. He had never looked so beautiful. Hair was sticking out in every direction on his head, lips parted as he breathed heavily in lust, his manhood dripping with pre-cum onto his own stomach. Sherlock was telling him the truth, he needed him.

"Just relax." he whispered and levelled with his teared eyes. "Just look at me."

And he did, locked his hazed eyes on the only thing that seemed important right now, John. Everything around him, the adventures outside of these walls of Bakes street could wait for a life time as it seemed. John was more important that every crime, every murderer out there, and far more distracting. The blunt object slowly sank into him and he grasped his doctor by his shoulder, piercing him with his eyes as the pressure started a slight burn. But John gave him a reassuring smile that told him that it was going to be fine. He trusted his doctor.

"You okay?" John asked him and let out a little whimper when he felt the already tight passage clamp around him. Sherlock uttered a groan as he nodded and John understood that there was some pain he was to modest to reveal, but his eyes were still locked at him. "I'll just stay still for a moment." But apparently Sherlock wanted him to keep going, his arousal could easily overcome the boring pain. He wiggled his hips again and John sunk deeper into him with a surprised moan. "Aah.. Sher..."

He lost it, his eyes slammed shut and he fought every urge in his body so he wouldn't pound him hard and fast to reach the glorious peak of orgasm. And he was the one supposed to be in control. A few deep breaths and a mind clearing sigh he looked down on his lover again; so beautiful and godlike. He reached down and caressed the inside of his slim thigh, placed his hand in the hollow of his knee, already sweaty by their hot action, and pulled his leg up around his waist to get a better access.

"How does it feel?" he asked Sherlock in a whisper and watched him with glittering eyes as he placed a arm around his neck, hosting himself up on it. Sherlock was trembling; of lust or nervousness, he didn't know.

"You can start moving if you like." he answered him and sneaked his long arm around his waist, the other hand clutching the sheets. John didn't need to be told twice, he nailed his free hand to his sharp hip and pulled out until only the head of his shaft was still inside him, his detective whimpering by the friction. He filled him again and Sherlock's eyes fluttered when he hit his sweet spot head on.

"Ooh, christ." he stammered and his head fell to the side, John still moving gracefully inside him, ever so carefully. He liked it, how could he had put this off for so long? This, this was incredible. He could hear himself breathing heavily as John's movements inside him caused a painful sucking in his abdomen, he needed release.

"Sherlock?" Had he lost him? The man was lying boneless beneath him, just breathing, eyes closed and... No, a slight moan slipped over his lip and John smirked. Sherlock was enjoying himself. "Sherlock?" He leaned down nibbled his jaw as he quickened his pace, pounding him to go deeper. "Please, look at me." The detective uttered yet another whimper and turned his face to him, captured by a deep kiss. Their tongues met each other in a wet sensual dance and John swallowed his own name from Sherlock's mouth. The detective gave in to his urges and met every thrust with a rocking, taking John deeper and feeling him brush over his prostate. Sherlock never wanted this to end.

John felt the passage tightening around him and Sherlock breath grew heavier, but he was tensed, like he was trying to hold back. He left his lips and let go of his leg so he could caress his cheek. The detective moaned loudly and his beautiful eyes fluttered.

"Relax." he whispered and nibbled his jaw. "Just let go." And he did, squirming against him to give his prostate what it needed. Mouth fell open to let out the loud moaning he couldn't control and he clawed John's back in pure overstimulation. There was no way John could hold back any longer. He rammed himself into him, feeling his balls slap Sherlock arse for each time and the friction. God the friction. This was not the time for caution. He wanted Sherlock to come and he needed it to happen now.

"Ah, John! JOHN!" Hearing his own name being so erotically expressed pulled him into his own climax. The tight space between them got soaked by Sherlock's spunk and the mans mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"Ooh, Sher... " He groaned his lovers name again and again until the name sounded strange. Then pulsed inside him, emptied himself and having the best orgasm in years. Possibly ever. He just kept coming inside him when he suddenly panicked and his eyes shot open, meeting the crock of Sherlock neck. The fact hit him like a ton of bricks. "Oh god!" But it was to late. "I'm so sorry!" This was bad, how could he have been so stupid. They didn't use any sort of protection, it never came to mind to even slip on a condom. What had he done?

"Don't worry." Sherlock groaned, still whimpering and exhausted by the powerful orgasm. "I'm clean, and I suppose you're too?" There was no doubt about it. Every partner he'd had sex with and broken up with had always ended with a testing. He was a doctor and wanted to stay healthy. But still, he felt rude for not thinking about protection not even pulling out.

"John." said Sherlock to make him stop his pondering. "Less than two hours ago I said that I love you. I think that come with some benefits, don't you think?" Slender finger brushed through his hair and he calmed himself, enjoyed the stage of post-coital on top of his lover.

"I guess." he sighed and moved his hip to slide out of him. "Did you like it?" The chest underneath his ear vibrated by the deep chuckle and soft lips was pressed to his crown.

"Very much so, yes." said the detective and his breathing evened out. "I just need to get better." And those words made John laugh.

"I guess we'll have to practise together then." It had already crossed Sherlock's mind.

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